


Hallelujah

by Selcier



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Homophobia, M/M, Obi-wan is a pastor, Religion, Religious Content, gui-gon is definitely an asshole, happy for a change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-03 18:19:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10972782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selcier/pseuds/Selcier
Summary: On Tuesday he finally strips the sheets from his bed, showers and tosses a load of laundry in the washer. Nothing looks different in his office when he shuffles in and turns on the lights. He almost expects his Bible to be open to Leviticus. But it lies on his desk, where he left it, open to Psalms.“‘My soul is weary with sorrow,’” Obi-wan says in the quiet. “‘Strengthen me according to your word.’”





	1. Chapter 1

Hallelujah

In the congregation, hands waive back and forth with church bulletins forcing hot air across sweaty faces. Dressed to worship, old ladies in sack-like dresses and teenagers in the back rows wallow alongside each other in the stifling heat of the sanctuary. Its May, and the Board hasn’t yet directed the heat be switched over to air. Obi-wan guesses it's nearly close to ninety in the sweltering room. Luckily, the vaulted ceilings and open windows allow for the slightest of drafts.

They end with a prayer as always. Deacon Mundi comes up to the pulpit with a bent back and Bible clutched in one ancient hand. Obi-wan stands respectfully to the side and crosses his hands on front of him, bowing his head. He stares at the lime green carpeting during the speech- Ludin always liked to hear himself talk- and joins in when the service ends with a song.

It tradition in this particular church to stand at the back doors as people exit to the foyer and shake hands with the worshipers. Obi-wan does particularly enjoy this part as everyone is quick to smile, say something vaguely pleasant about the sermon and head out on their way to lunch. His own stomach growls just as the last notes of the song finish and he heads down the center aisle.

Large Mrs. Jetsetter grasps his hands in her sweaty ones, gushing about his verse selection.

Sour Mr. Kolar nods politely and tries to usher his two three year olds out to the car as quickly as possible.

Miss Kit dawdles as long as possible as she blushes profusely at his comment about her lovely benediction that morning.

Most of the congregation chooses to catch up with friends in the tiny parking lot in the fresh breeze and soon he is left only with the Deacons, who are tidying the space, and old Sheev Palpatine who is smiling broadly and slapping Obi-wan on the back.

“What a message, my boy, what a message. I imagine every soul felt the stirring of the Holy Spirit this morning.”

“Thank you, Sheev,” Obi-wan says offering the long-time patron a sincere smile. “I’ve had that one growing in my mind for some months now.”

“Yes, yes,” Palpatine says again, “I’m sure my grandson enjoyed it as well. Didn’t you Anakin? Pastor Kenobi, have you met Anakin yet? He lived with me when he was a tiny thing. But he’s been off to the boarding school and college for some time now!”

Palpatine flings out his arm to usher his grandson forward. He’s tall with wavy dirty blonde hair and a full smile. “No, Grandfather, I don’t think we’ve met. I haven’t been to church in a while.” His smile falls for a moment. “Not that I don’t like going, you know, but college wasn’t really…” he trails off and reaches up to run a hand through his hair. “Uh, never mind. Nice to meet you.”

Obi-wan grasps his hand firmly. “Likewise, Anakin. Obi-wan Kenobi. I’ve known your grandfather since I’ve been serving here. Almost five years ago now.”

Anakin nods. “Yes, and Grandfather has been talking about you for just as long. Tells me about your famous casserole every time he gets a chance.”

Palpatine beams at the jibe. “Anakin’s been studying Engineering and just started with a company downtown. He’s staying with me until he can find an apartment. Lots of places to see in a big town like this!”

“I’m looking at West View right now but there isn’t much on the market.”

Obi-wan smiles, “That’s where I’m living. A garden level apartment in a pre-war building. The view from the top of the hill is beautiful.”

“Oh!” Anakin says. He fiddles with his collared shirt and tie. He probably isn’t used to wearing them. “Awesome, what do you think if Grandview?”

Obi-wan shrugs. “Expensive, but worth it if you can afford it. I would be jealous.”

“Oh! My boy will certainly be able to afford it,” Palpatine chimes in. He clutches at Anakin’s elbow. “With that new salary he’ll be making he could buy the whole block.”

“Grandfather,” Anakin says, blushing, “Can we not talk about that?”

Obi-wan laughs and ushers them out of the sanctuary. “I’m sure your Grandfather is very proud of you, Anakin. Everyone likes the chance to crow sometimes.”

The sunlight blinds him at first as they step out of the foyer and onto the front step. Palpatine starts to wander over to the cars, bent over a bit at the back. They both watch him go before Obi-wan turns to Anakin again. “But I would love to show you around the neighborhood. If you’re considering Grandview than you really should be sure if you want to live there.”

Anakin grins at him. “Cool, uh, can I get your number?”

“Of course, this weekend I’m helping a church member move, but I’m normally free in the evenings.”

They pull out their cell phones and exchange a quick text message before Anakin needs to hurry after his grandfather. “It was nice meeting you, Obi-wan. I’ve got to get the old man home.”

Obi-wan waves him goodbye and turns back into the church, his phone tucked safely back into the inner pocket of his blazer. He looks forward to the new company.

***********

Anakin texts him later that week and they meet for lunch at the corner deli in West View. Then, after a stroll down to the creamery, they settle in the small parklet at the corner of Grandview to take in the view and the sweet breeze. The bench they find is slightly damp with the previous night’s rain but Anakin doesn’t seem to mind his jeans getting a bit wet. He looks much more casual and comfortable in a tight t-shirt and Nikes.

“Hard to get a view like this in Arizona,” he says stretching back with his arms behind his head. He sprawls across the bench, all legs.

“Is that where you went to school?” Obi-wan asks. He balances his leftovers in his lap. “I can’t imagine going so far.”

“Yeah, I wanted to get away from the East Coast. Thought Arizona would be fun. You know, that and they offered me a full ride. Grandfather’s got a nice pension but I don’t want to suck him dry.”

Obi-wan feels happy for him. “I suppose I’m much more of a homebody. I went to seminary at the school attached to my elementary school. Met all the right people, managed to find this position at the church and moved all of thirty minutes from the place I spent the first 22 years of my life.”

“Oh,” Anakin says. Obi-wan knows he’s surprised; most people comment that they expected to hear about his calling in some sort of prophetic dream. “Did you like it? Seminary, I mean? I can’t imagine going to school to learn about the Bible. Uh, no offense.”

Obi-wan laughs at the scandalized look on Anakin’s face. “Don’t worry. I did enjoy it. I like reading in stuffy, dusty libraries. It seems I was meant for the church.”

Anakin’s nose wrinkles up. “Yeah, I think you just described my worst nightmare. Give me blow torch and an electrical panel any day.”

Anakin talks more about his new job and the strange coworkers he’s met already. His ability to mimic others makes Obi-wan laugh even if doesn’t know the original source material. Anakin pays particular attention to the variety of accents in his office and how sometimes, the gossip at the water fountain is exaggerated due to breakdowns in communication.

Obi-wan recounts the recent horror of moving Mrs. Ti into her new apartment. He’d never seen so many doilies or framed cat photos in his life. There was one giant print, a row of cat butts, framed in an ornate golden thing, as he carried it out to the U-Haul; his nose pressed flat against both the glass and a butt pucker as she shrieked in the background. Anakin is polite enough to laugh at his misfortune.

They left each other that late afternoon with plans to watch the hockey game that Sunday night.

Obi-wan focused his sermon that week on the joy of communion.

*****************

Its three months later, on another sweltering day in August that Obi-wan’s father pays him an unexpected visit on a Wednesday evening. He had just finished sautéing his shrimp alfredo when his phone buzzed. “Coming over,” said the text.

They say little to each other as Obi-wan divides dinner between two plates and pulls some hastily made garlic bread from the oven. Qui-gon Ginn, an eccentric at heart who scorns modernity, waits until they’ve finished their last bite before speaking. “Thank you for this excellent meal, Obi-wan.”

“You’re welcome. I would have made more if I knew you’d be visiting.” He doesn’t really mean it as an insult, but it sounds like he does.

Qui-gon frowns but doesn’t reprimand his manners. “I was in town on business and found myself stopping by. The University is hosting a symposium downtown and have asked me to present my most recent paper on Biblical Prophets in the Old Testament. I felt it was prudent to pay you a visit as well.”

Obi-wan manages a smile as he suggests they move into the living room of his tiny apartment. Qui-gon stoops over as he ducks under the doorway to the kitchen, the ceilings being too low for his taller body. Anakin has hit his head there multiple times and always swears, apologizing profusely every time.

Once they settle on the couch and the armchair respectively, each with a glass of water, Qui-gon discusses the nature of his research liberally and with an unmatched passion. Obi-wan sips at his water and nods at the appropriate places.

“I admit, Obi-wan, that I have come for another reason as well.”

Obi-wan resists the urge to squirm in his seat. His father had never liked action without purpose. “Yes?”

“I’ve recently been acquainted with a young woman who I’d like to introduce to you. She works as a manager at the large church just outside my neighborhood. I occasionally attend when the quality of Pastor Windu’s lectures series start to disintegrate. You know how he can be sometimes. But, yes, she started to attend the weekly study just a few months ago and I mentioned your position. She seemed pleasantly surprised at my offer of introducing you.”

“Oh,” Obi-wan says, caught off guard. “Well, yes, I suppose I have no objection to meeting her.”

“Good,” Qui-Gon says, settling back in his chair. “I shall pass on your number immediately. I doubt that she will feel too forward reaching out to you - although she seems sensible in every other manner.”

Luckily, his father already has a hotel room paid for by the University and is happy to retire there after his conversation runs out. He leaves Obi-wan with a few more sermon ideas written in a looping cursive on a scrap of napkin. “Good night, Obi-wan,” he says on his way out.

And sure enough, the young lady calls Obi-wan a few nights later. Just an hour away, they agree to meet for dinner the next weekend at a mutually convenient location.

The morning after their phone conversation, Anakin slumps into his apartment with a burning need to go to the pool. It seems his father’s Victorian isn’t air conditioned and he’s had enough.

The local pool is just around the block from Obi-wan’s apartment. Certainly, anyone else would see this as a positive but he rarely goes. The sun has never agreed with his pale skin and the bright-white pages of his favorite books. But Anakin has, of course, brought and extra pair of swim trunks and he all but orders Obi-wan into the bedroom to change.

Anakin casually forks over the entrance fee for the both of them and Obi-wan has to mutter a promise to pay him back.

He waives it off, “Whatever, this is how I get to pay you back for all those years of coddling my Grandfather while I was away.” He smiles down at Obi-wan and flings an arm across his shoulders. His skin burns through Obi-wan’s thin blue t--shirt. “Thanks for that, you know.” Obi-wan blushes and concentrates on not tripping over the uneven pavement around the pool.

They find a spot in the grass, half out of the shade and half in the sunlight for variety. Anakin is already sweating through his white shirt and he pulls it over his head as soon as they have their blanket down and towels discarded nearby. His sunglasses land on the pile as he kicks off his sandals. “Ready?”

Obi-wan squints in the sunlight. “No,” he says tossing the bottle of sunscreen he’d found in the back of drawer at his friend. “Not unless you’d like to hear my complaints for the next three weeks about my back peeling. Give me a hand. I’m not as flexible as I used to be.”

Anakin drops down behind him on the blanket and smears his back with a liberal amount of cool goo. “Please, Obi-wan, you aren’t that old.” His calloused hands work down Obi-wan’s spine in even strokes. Obi-wan droops under the attention.

“Older than you,” he mumbles, “and half these half-naked girls. “

“Oh,” Anakin says, his hands stop moving for a moment before sliding back up and over Obi-wan’s shoulders. “Yeah they’re probably all in high school anyways. Don’t look too close or their boyfriends will get mad.”

He reaches around Obi-wan to smear an oiled hand across his face. “There, all done!”

Obi-wan sighs and wipes the excess from his beard before Anakin is tugging him to the pool and tossing him in.

********************

His father always had excellent taste, Obi-wan remembers as he shares a smile with Satine from across the table. The restaurant, recommended online, feels romantic and relaxing from the attentive wait staff to the single floating candle in the middle of their white tablecloth. Her blonde hair and pearl earring shimmer in the golden glow as she picks delicately at her dessert.

“Your father was very kind to introduce us, Obi-wan,” she says. “I admit that this is my first time on a date with a man I've never met in person. But Qui-Gon could do nothing but tout your accomplishments.”

Obi-wan smiles because he knows her words are genuine even though he feels annoyance at his Father’s behavior. “Oh, well thank you, Satine. I’m sure he was over exaggerating.”

She shakes her head and her hair spills over her thin shoulders. “I doubt that, Obi-wan. You’ve been nothing but a gentleman this evening.”

They talk more about Obi-wan’s position at the church before he invites her to attend a worship service in the future. She accepts but says that it may be sometime as her day-job requires her to be at services herself.

After one last drink, Obi-wan escorts her back out to her car and wishes her a good night. He drives home with a smile on his face.

Anakin’s face is sour the next time they meet two days after the date.

“Are you still on about that apartment?” Obi-wan asks. Two weeks ago, Anakin thought he had found a great place but was too late with his security deposit.

They lounge outside in his unit’s shared backyard on two filthy lawn chairs. Obi-wan threw a towel over his but Anakin had sat down without first checking for spiders between the slats. The cool shade of the oak tree keeps them safe from the worst of the sun and heat. Obi-wan wishes for October when he can go back to his sweaters and ditch his old t-shirts.

“No, not that,” Anakin says. He swirls his beer in a fancy glass. Obi-wan had thought it a bit dark for the season but Anakin claimed it was too delicious to pass up. He’d brought over a whole case to store in the fridge.

Obi-wan doesn’t want to push so they talk about plans for burgers and fries for dinner. He watches as Anakin slides his hand up under his t-shirt to rub at his stomach. A thin line of tan skin argues with the neon band of his exposed briefs.

Obi-wan licks his lips and sips at his water. They’re close enough in their chairs for Anakin to reach over and push Obi-wan’s hair back from his eyes. “Gotta get that cut, he says.” His voice is soft but he grins. “Otherwise you’ll have some sort of weird hair tan.”

Obi-wan pushes his hand away, haughtily offended. “I certainly do not, tan, of all things, Mr. Skywalker. Don’t be silly.”

But on their way to the restaurant (“My treat,” Anakin says) they stop by the barber. Anakin sits behind him the mirror and gives him the thumbs up. Obi-wan blushes under his black cape and has to look at the various combs on the counter in front of him.

That weekend, after the last song, Mrs. Jetsetter coos over his new look. Obi-wan can’t help but self-consciously push the new fringe away from his eyes. Anakin elbows him in the ribs and winks at him as he slips past the older ladies on his way to help his Grandfather with the car.

******************

“We actually had quite the conversation about the importance of breastfeeding of all things. Not something I thought I’d ever discuss in public.” Obi-wan smiles to himself. “My father would be utterly mortified if he ever heard. But he did introduce us.”

Anakin slams down his magazine on the table. Obi-wan looks up sharply in the dim light of the kitchen. Thin sunlight from the October evening peaks in through the windows in beams of swirling dust. “Can you stop talking about her,” Anakin says. His face is pinched.

“What?” Obi-wan asks, startled.

“I said, can you stop talking about her. It’s awful enough that I know you’re seeing her every other weekend. But I can’t listen to another word about her church or what she made for potluck or any of it!”

Anakin stands up, his chair racking across the floor with a sharp groan. Obi-wan’s mouth opens. “Ani, what are you on about?”

“Satine, Obi-wan. Satine. I can’t listen to another work about her. She seems like a nice person. But god help me if I can’t be happy for you.” His anger deflates with a sigh and his shoulders slump. “Please don’t push me away like this.”

“Ani, what are you talking about? I thought you’d liked her?” Obi-wan furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “I thought you wanted to meet her when she’s in town next weekend like we talked about.”

“I lied, Obi-wan,” Anakin says. He goes to the cabinet and pulls out a glass. “I lied. I don’t want to meet her. I don’t want anything to do with her. I told you I would because I know it's important to you.” He pours a shots worth of tequila and tips it back down his throat. He turns to face Obi-wan, his face hard. “I told myself I’d meet her so I wouldn’t have to lose you.”

“What?” Obi-wan finds himself saying again.

Anakin holds the glass loosely in his hand as he sets it on the counter. “I’m in love with you Obi-wan,” he says.

“That’s not possible,” Obi-wan says, almost automatically. He can’t understand what Anakin is saying. “I’m a man, you can’t be in love with me.”

Anakin chuckles and shakes his head. “How am I not surprised. Isn’t it obvious, Obi-wan, I’m gay. Gay. I like guys. I like guys that are you.”

“What?” Obi-wan asks again. “You’re not gay. I would have known.”

Anakin rubs a hand down his face and straightens up. “Good night, Obi-wan. Call me, I guess. I’ll see you this weekend at church.” He grabs his light jacket from the back of the kitchen chair and brushes past Obi-wan’s arm. The front door closes softly and a rush of cool wind brings chills to the back of his neck..

Obi-wan looks down at his coffee and squeezes his eyes shut.

************

He doesn’t go into the church office that week. And when Friday comes around, he calls Deacon Mundi to ask if would be so kind to give the sermon that weekend. Mundi agrees before the words are out of his mouth. He spends the weekend in bed and only opens the door to tip the delivery man bearing his Chinese.

On Tuesday he finally strips the sheets from his bed, showers and tosses a load of laundry in the washer. Nothing looks different in his office when he shuffles in and turns on the lights. He almost expects his Bible to be open to Leviticus. But it lies on his desk, where he left it, open to Psalms.

“‘My soul is weary with sorrow,’” Obi-wan says in the quiet. “‘Strengthen me according to your word.’”

He sees Anakin in church every weekend but they don’t speak. Obi-wan shuffles out as soon as the last song is over, ignoring his duty at the back doors.

His father calls a month later. His voice is gruff over the crackle of a bad phone connection. “Satine tells me you haven't spoken in some time.” When Obi-wan doesn’t confirm, he continues. “I’m disappointed in you, Obi-wan. Satine is a very eligible young lady. She would make a great mother and companion. Let's not have any of your silliness from high school again.”

Obi-wan squeezes his eyes shut and covers his face with his hand. He should never have taken this call in public. He can feel eyes on his back in the din of the public library. He’d come to use the computer. His rows of tabs remain open on his screen but he minimizes the browser.

“I’ll call her,” is all he can say before he hangs up. He tosses his old flip phone down on the table.

He hasn’t spoken to Anakin in just as much time. Their eyes had met across the congregation, but they’re been no post-sermon banter in his office or weekday cooking experiments. Obi-wan’s trash is riddled with take-out containers and frozen food trays.

When he opens his phone again later, and in the safety of his apartment, he pushes in Satine’s number before he can think too much about what he’s going to say.

She answers with the same posh assurance she always has. “Obi-wan,” she says, “How are you?”

He winces at her polite tone. What a piece of shit he’d been by ignoring her. “Satine, uh, I’m sorry for bothering you. Actually, I’m sorry for everything.” She doesn’t say anything as he collects his thoughts and he’s grateful for it. “I can’t make any excuses. But I wanted to close things. Between us.”

“I understand, Obi-wan. This relationship was talking both of us too far away from our relationship with God. I apologize for dragging you down with me. I quite enjoyed your company.”

Obi-wan mouths wordlessly into the phone receiver. “Uh, yes, well. I’m glad that you feel the same way.” His face wrinkles as he searches for something pious to say. “I believe that God brought us together to learn more about our relationship with Him. Uh, to, uh offer us a chance to test ourselves.”

He can hear her smile over the phone in the tone of her voice. “Yes, I believe that too” she says. “And I was grateful for our time together. I wish you well, Obi-wan Kenobi.”

Obi-wan does smile then, “Yes, you too Satine.”

They hang up and Obi-wan tosses the phone to the floor. Disgust coats his heart in poison.


	2. Chapter 2

Just a week before his Christmas sermon on forgiveness, Palpatine barges into his office with less than a ‘good afternoon’ and marches right up to his desk. Obi-wan’s pen falls from his hand the middle of word, his mouth opens in surprise.

“Obi-wan Kenobi,” the old man yells, his hands fly through the air around him as he gesticulates at every word. “I have just found out from my grandson that you utter twits haven’t been speaking in almost two months!” He leans forward over the broad desk and bangs his finger against Obi-wan messy paperwork. “Can you please explain this foolish behavior or will I need to take you outside for a licking?”

Obi-wan blinks rapidly, trying to sting the man’s words together in his mind. He settles for “I’m sorry, Mr. Palpatine. But, of what are talking of?”

“Anakin, you great sod! Anakin. That smart, handsome young man who’s been after you for weeks. Can’t stop talking about you. Good lord if I ever have to hear about your bloody hair again I’ll slit my own throat!”

“Oh,” Obi-wan says, slumping back in his stiff chair. “Oh. I thought he must hate me.”

“Hate you? Bloomin’ fools! The boy loves you!” Palpatine stomps with one foot and points at the door. “Now get out there and call him. I’ve had enough of him sulking around the house. Doesn’t even go out to work on that blasted project bike of his either.”

Obi-wan stands, his knees weak, and smooths his hands down his sweater. “Uh, yes, well.” He latches onto his coat and stuffs his arms into the sleeves. “Do you know where I might find him?”

“Has the day off, today, company policy about a healthy work-life environment. He’s wallowing at the house. Never goes anywhere anymore.”

“Oh, well, I suppose I’ll just head over there then,” Obi-wan says. He edges around the desk and, at Palpatine’s shooing motion, out the door to his car.

He’s been to the Palpatine Estate once before. A few months after he started at the church, Sheev had hosted an Easter brunch on the lawns behind the house. It had been more than overwhelming. The entire congregation had come, dressed in their finest white and pastels, to nibble on hors d'oeuvres accompanied by a harpist. Obi-wan had discovered, after he had arrived, that Sheev and Finis Valorum had bet on who could host the most grandiose event. Considering Finis never did send out invites for the Pentecost festival a month, the matter must have been settled.

The Victorian itself is the jewel of a sprawling estate. With ornate ginger breading and painting in a stunning palette of muted colors and attention-grabbing highlights, the house itself is a historical dream.

When Obi-wan arrives, the wrap around porch is scattered with wicker furniture and bar carts, rugs flung underneath in cozy seating arrangements. Obi-wan uses the giant brass door knocker in lieu of any noticeable door bell.

When Anakin opens one of the walnut doors, Obi-wan’s mouth dries and his words tangle around his tongue. “Anakin,” he says, clearing his throat. “Uh, your grandfather said you’d be here.” He pulls his coat more firmly around his chest.

“Yeah, I have off today,” he says. He takes a step back away from the door. “Do you wanna come in?”

Obi-wan nodes and hurries in out the cold. He hangs his jacket on the coat rack and basks in the heat from the fire in the entry. The warm mahogany floors and walls soak up his initial embarrassment as he ogles at the staircase.

“Come on, old man,” Anakin says, laughing, “There’s more history to look at in the parlor.” He reaches out and pushes Obi-wan lightly with a hand on his lower back. Obi-wan swallows down his terror.

Oh course, Anakin doesn’t disappoint him with the grand, red room. Damask wallpaper stretches up from wide baseboards to massive flights of crown molding. The fireplace, three times the size of Obi-wan’s oven, boasts a marble mantle with delicate carvings of vines and flowers against the veins of white and red. A steady blaze burns over red hot coals.

Anakin helps him stumble onto a pompous settee so he can see it all. “Let me get us drinks. Do you want some hot cocoa?”

“Yes, yes, that sounds wonderful,” Obi-wan says, a flush marking his face. He runs a finger down the red velvet upholstery.

Despite the formality of the room, Anakin’s drawings are spread out over the floor in messy piles. He smiles at the familiar sight. But it had been some time since he’d seen such a heap in his own living room.

“Your grandfather had to come talk sense into me,” Obi-wan says almost an hour later after they’d drunk their chocolate and demolished a box of scones. He smiles at the fireplace because he can’t bear to look at Anakin. “Told me I was an idiot for staying away.”

Anakin groans and flings his head back to rest on the top of the prim sofa. “Uhrg, of course he would. I’m so sorry.”

Obi-wan licks his lips but reaches over to Anakin’s body. He runs his hand down one tan, exposed arm. Of course the younger man is wearing a t-shirt in December. The hairs on Anakin’s arms jump up at Obi-wan’s touch and he can feel Anakin’s eyes watching him. His hand reaches Anakin’s fingers and he feels each knuckle and dip. Anakin turns his hand over so he can feel the callouses from the shop on his palms.

“In high school,” Obi-wan says, glad that the crackling fire keeps his words quiet. “In high school, I competed on the fencing team. I wasn’t very good, not really, but it was fun and we got to leave early sometimes for meets. Plus, other than choir is was the only thing you could do outside class. The school was too tiny for a real football or baseball team.

“After the competitions, we would meet up with the other teams for dinner. Mostly we went to some fast food place or another where we could afford to eat as much as we wanted. I’m sure the staff hated us. Rowdy and high strung from stabbing at each other with blunt toothpicks.” Obi-wan rubs his thumb over the sharp tendons in Anakin’s wrists. 

“There was one boy, and now I can’t even remember his name, that I became good friends with. He went to a tiny school on the other side of town. We would meet up at my house after school a few times a week since his mom was always home and my father was away all the time.”

Obi-wan looks sharply up at Anakin to see if he’s still listening. His head of curls rests on the couch but his face is focused. “My Father came home early, once, he was supposed to be gone through the weekend but his conference was cut short. He walked in on us in the kitchen. I’ve never seen anyone so red; told him to get out.”

Obi-wan drops his head to stare at Anakin’s hand. “We never spoke about it again.”

“Obi-wan,” Anakin says after a moment. “Obi-wan, that won’t- that was-” he sighs. “Thank you for telling me.”

**************

“What are your thoughts, if any,” Obi-wan asks, “about the Oxford comma?”

Anakin groans from his spot on the lumpy couch. The golden light of a few scattered desk lamps casts the room in a hazy glow. Obi-wan, next to him on the floral monstrosity, pokes the end of his pen into his check. “Hm, I’m not surprised.”

Flakes of snow fall past the dark widow outside but the churches electric baseboard heaters keep the room toasty. As soon as they’d arrived earlier that afternoon, while it was still light, Anakin had cranked up the thermostat and Obi-wan hadn’t bothered to correct it. He promised himself, for the good of the congregation, that he would as soon as they left for the night.

Anakin sits up and rubs at his face. “Urgh, I love napping.” He pushes his wild hair back from his face and smiles at Obi-wan. “But since you’ve descended into contemplating the minutia of punctuation, in a speech that you will say out loud, I might add, that you’re finished for the night.” He stretches his arms up over his shoulders and yawns. “Want me to drive you home?”

“Anakin Skywalker, going home on a Friday night at eight o’clock. Or do you have a hot date that you’re hiding from me?” Obi-wan clicks his tongue, smiling, and sets his papers and pen aside. He pulls his feet out from under him, his legs stiff, to stand.

Anakin’s hand on his arm stops him. “Obi-wan, there’s no date. There won’t be another date.”

Obi-wan feels his face heat up and he drops his gaze. “No, Ani, I’m sorry. That was cruel of me to say. You’ve made your feelings clear and it was wrong of me to joke about them.”

Anakin sighs. “Obi-wan, you don’t have to apologize. I know you’re not making fun. But I-” he licks his lips, “I do love you.” He reaches over to brush his thumb across Obi-wan’s face.

They’re close on the couch. Obi-wan can smell Anakin’s shampoo and the earthy tone of his sweat through his t-shirt. There is splotchy stain on his left shoulder where he splashed pasta water on himself earlier. Obi-wan wouldn't have guessed it would have left a mark. He traces it with his own thumb.

“Ani,” he says. His hands slide up Anakin’s torso to his shoulders and up to his face. “Anakin,” he says, trying again. He trails his fingers over the small scar over Anakin’s eye from when he was in car accident in middle school.

In the glow of the lamps, Anakin’s face is quiet with contentment and happiness. His blue eyes shimmer as he searches Obi-wan’s face. The graceful swoop of his eyebrows draws Obi-wan gaze as his finger ghost over the straight line of his nose.

“Fuck, Obi-wan,” Anakin says before his pulls Obi-wan forward into his lap. His hands grip Obi-wan’s hips in a vice before he curls his fists around the hem of his shirt. “Obi-wan,” he moans again and inhales the skin on Obi-wan’s neck. His curls brush against Obi-wan’s lips.

“Anakin,” Obi-wan says. His voice comes out in a croak as he grabs for purchase on Anakin’s thick shoulders. “Please, I want you to- to just-”

“Christ, yes,” Anakin says into his neck before his lips are on Obi-wan’s in a hot rush of heat. Anakin’s hands curls back up around his neck and cradle the back of his head. His lips scratch across his beard, sucking on his lips and chin before focusing on his mouth again.

Obi-wan moans at the attention, a sound so horrible in the silence of his church office that he almost freezes with terror. But Anakin joins him a moment later with a whisper sigh of happiness and lighter touch of his lips. “Obi-wan,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Shit, I’ve waited for this. I love you, damn it.” He kisses him again. This time soft and slow. Obi-wan buries his hands in Anakin’s hair. His heart pounds in his chest and his skin is on fire with sensation.

“Ani,” he says. He drops his forehead against Anakin’s and closes his eyes for a moment. He relaxes into Anakin’s firm chest and tucks his knees into the space on either side of his lap. “Forgive me.”

Anakin forces his chin up so their eyes meet. “Shut up, Obi-wan. There’s nothing to forgive. Leave it.” He kisses Obi-wan again just as hard as before.

And they do leave it. Obi-wan throws his guilt to the floor along with Anakin’s shirt and belt in a messy pile, forgotten. Anakin fumbles with Obi-wan’s sweater, pulling it up over his head with shaking hands, and it tangled up around Obi-wan’s chin. “Damn it,” he says, peeling the wool across his face and free of his hair. “I’ve imagined this so many times and now I fucking it up.”

Obi-wan kisses him, learning up so their noses bump, a laugh on his lips. “Stop talking and help me, then.”

Anakin groans as he pulls down Obi-wan’s zipper and grabs at Obi-wan’s hips. “I’m helping, I promise.” He pushes Obi-wan back against the armrest and clambers over-top of him, yanking at his own pants as he goes. “I need to see all of you.”

Obi-wan wraps his arms around Anakin’s neck as they kiss sinking into the lumpy cushions of the couch. Anakin reaches down between them to tug at their last remaining scraps of clothing, his face set with concentration. He props himself up on one arm.

When he finally touches Obi-wan with a hot hand, Obi-wan’s back arches up with pleasure and he digs the heel of his hand into Anakin’s back. “Ah,” he breathes, “Ani, God.”

Anakin’s lips and tongue are hot against his neck and he can barely think to slide his own hands down. He finds Anakin’s hand pulling loosely at his swollen length; Anakin’s own member knocks against their knuckles as his hips shift back and forth. The obscene movement washes over him a haze of heat.

“Obi-wan, Obi-wan” Anakin mumbles into his mouth. “God you’re so fucking perfect.”

Obi-wan grasps Anakin between their bodies and slides his hand up the hot shaft. Anakin moans at the contact as a heady swell of pleasure rolls up Obi-wan’s spine.

“Shit, I’m not going to last if you keep making those noises,” Anakin says, breathless above him.

In his mind, Obi-wan wants to say something obscene but the words catch on his lips. So he strains upwards to taste Anakin again. Their teeth smash against each other as Anakin settles firmly between his thighs. Obi-wan’s taut body braces against the hard line of Anakin’s muscled legs.

“Oh,” Obi-wan whines as the weight of his pleasure crashes against him. “Oh, Anakin, please- I’m right there. I-” His lascivious words stumble across each other as his back arches up. He trembles in his orgasm’s crushing hold, his hips flexing and mouth open and red. Pleasure sears up his spine from the arches of his feet up to his frantically beating heart. He hears Anakin moan again, deep and vibrating through his chest. He drops his head to Obi-wan’s forehead as hot cum splashes between their fists.

He barely has a moment to collect himself before Anakin’s mouth is on him again, suckling on the side of his neck. “Shit, Obi-wan,” he mumbles groggily. “That was fucking fantastic.”

Under the warm blanket of Anakin’s body, Obi-wan smiles and strokes his clean hand down Anakin’s back. “I should have known you’d have a horrendous range of vocabulary.”

Anakin chuckles into his neck and then props himself up again. “And I should have known that you'd be so polite as to inform me you were about to come.” He smiles, a broad grin that lights up his face. “It was fucking hot.”

***************

The service starts off one winter morning with one of Obi-wan’s personal favorites. From his seat on the tiny stage, he stands with the congregation and raises his voice in praise.

“Our God, is awesome God he reigns.” The nuns in elementary school had told him had a lovely voice. Over the years, it had become tight and too low for his liking. But songs like this still captivate his heart. And, as the chorus swells up to the rafters, he feels the Holy Spirit lift his heart as well.

Anakin smiles at him from his place next to his grandfather in the pews. Obi-wan can’t hear him singing over the sound of so many voices, but he can almost imagine his sweet tenor.

Kitty Fitso ends the song with a large smile and a shy glance back at Obi-wan before he comes to the stand. He thanks her and bows his head for the benediction.

“Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for this wondrous day. Many of our hearts saw your goodness in the fresh beginning of spring outside their doors. Or the sound of the birds fluttering in the trees. I saw you this morning in happy smile of loved ones and friends.”

He takes a breath and licks his lips, “This morning, we lift our hearts and voices to praise you. And to wonder at the glory of your blessings upon us. We come to your house to worship so that we can better ourselves and be worthy of your kindness. Of your everlasting love. This morning, we are thankful for the joy you’ve brought into our lives. Amen.”

The congregation choruses his thanks and waits silently for him to begin. A few children giggle from their spots on the floor among the pews. Obi-wan remembers his own time in church, at his father’s feet, playing with goldfish and Hotwheels while the adults listen. Then, when he’d entered first grade, Qui-gon had required him to sit up on the pew and pay attention. He’d amused himself by thinking of climbing the tree outside the church windows.

“Let us all take a moment to center ourselves within God. To feel his words,” Obi-wan begins. The rhythm of his words flow easily out of his mouth in a calming cadence. As he speaks, he watches the faces of his congregation as they float with along with him. His gaze sweeps across familiar faces, settling occasionally on Anakin.

He smiles and chases away the flush rising in his checks. He pushes away thoughts of Anakin’s hands smoothing across his forehead and running down his sides that morning.

Mr. Mundi takes his place at the pulpit after Obi-wan’s words flow to a trickle. His prayer, as always, borders on the imbecilic with the sheer amount of superfluous adverbs.

Obi-wan happily takes his place at the back door to the sanctuary once the morning service finishes. Mrs. Jetsetter all but rushes in for a chance to strong-arm him into a crushing hug and Mr. Koth doesn’t spare him a glance as he scampers after his two girls in puffy pink dresses.

Sheev Palpatine pats him on the shoulder as he walks by, almost the last church member left as Anakin fidgets behind his grandfather in line.

Obi-wan opens his mouth to tease him over his impatience when he notices the slight blonde at his side. “Oh, Miss. Kryze. Hello.”

She smiles at him, a picture of grace. “Pastor Kenobi, good morning. I apologize for my surprise visit, but I had promised to come for one of your sermons.”

Obi-wan hides his hands behind his back. He doesn’t want to reach out to grasp her hand in fear that she’d notice how sweaty they’d grown. He glances over at Anakin. “Well, yes, thank you. I hope that you enjoyed the message today.”

“I did, of course,” she says. Her delicate hands fold around her pocket book. “You have quite the manner of speaking.”

Obi-wan fumbles over his thanks. Anakin moves to his side and Obi-wan reaches out to his arm. “Ah, Satine, have you met Anakin Skywalker yet?”

“Yes, we have been introduced. I know his grandfather from the local community board. Although, I haven’t seen Anakin since before he left for college.” She smiles at him and Obi-wan imagines her remembering Anakin as a high school brat. “I was happy to run into him as we were sitting.”

Anakin elbows him in the side. “Yeah, we were sitting next to each other the whole time.”

Obi-wan elbows him back. “Yes, thank you Anakin, I did hear her.”

Satine glances between them. “Oh,” she says. “I see.”

Obi-wan looks back at her and away from Anakin’s impetuous face. “You do?”

Satine smiles then, a slight lift of lips, as she steps forward on practical heels. “Dear Obi-wan,” she says. She cradles his face in two cool hands. Anakin stiffens beside him. “I wish you all the best.”

Her hands fall and she looks over to Anakin. “It was lovely to meet you again, Mr. Skywalker.” She brushes past them, her light floral perfume lingering in the sanctuary.

**************

Once April rolls around, Anakin keeps the windows in the apartment cracked at night. He sleeps hot, and the cold breeze from outside puts him under in seconds. Obi-wan prefers the cooler bedroom to hot and moist sheets in the middle of night.

Obi-wan rubs his face deeper into the sheets. He knows Anakin is already up. The man always had too much energy, especially in the morning. The last few days he had been building some sort of metal torture device on the living room coffee table swearing and banging around at ridiculous hours of the morning.

He rolls over, bringing the thick duvet around with him in a tight cocoon. His mind hazes with the urge to back to sleep. The sun barely shines through the curtains.

The sound of loud voices shocks him out his sleep. The window is closed but the curtain fully open. Anakin must have come in while he was sleeping. He stares hard at the clock on the bedside table, trying to read the red numbers. He mumbles and drops his head back onto the pillow.

The clatter of metal jerks him awake again and he rolls out of the covers to pull on a pair of dirty jeans from the floor; the legs too long and too fashionable to be his.

“Obi-wan,” his father says as he steps into the living room rubbing a hand across his face. “Good Morning.”

“Oh,” Obi-wan says. His father and Anakin are seated at on opposite sides of the small room, each holding a cup of coffee. Anakin’s knuckles are white where he grips the mug. “Ah, good morning.” He clears his throat and it horribly aware that he’s wearing nothing more than a pair of sagging pants. “Uh, Anakin, I’m sure you’ve introduced yourself. But, father, this is Anakin Skywalker. His grandfather attends my church.”

“Yes, Obi-wan, we have spoken while you were sleeping.” He stands and Obi-wan winces.

“Can I get you anything else?” He asks. His hands clutch at the back of a ugly armchair in an effort to hold his body steady. “Tea maybe?”

“Mr. Skywalker here was already kind enough to provide me with coffee. But, I would like a word with you. In private,” Qui-gon says. He looks pointedly in Anakin’s direction with a sharp face.

Anakin stands; a frown on his face. “Sure,” he says.

Obi-wan reaches out to grab his elbow before he can leave the room. “Anakin, wait.” He turns to his father. “I have something you both need to hear.”

Qui-gon crosses his arms over his chest and draws up to his full height. Frizzing strands of his long grey hair brush against the ceiling.

“As you know, my contract with the church comes to an end this summer. July actually,” Obi-wan says. He doesn’t let go of Anakin elbow, squeezing to keep himself steady. “I’ve decided not to file with the Conference for a second term. Actually, I’ve decided not to file for a second term at all.” He clears his throat. “I’ve been accepted into the History Master’s program at the University and will be starting there this fall.”

Qui-gon stands completely still. Obi-wan resists the urge to apologize. He shifts under the taller man’s gaze.

“Oh Obi-wan!” Anakin says from his side. His face brightens with his grin. “Congratulations!” He swoops Obi-wan up in a tight hug, squeezing his rib cage and forcing the air out of his lungs in a sharp burst. “I’m so happy for you.”

Obi-wan takes in a deep breath of Anakin and wraps his arms around his neck. “Thank you, Anakin.” He smells like seared metal and coffee beans. His hair tickles Obi-wan’s checks.

Anakin lets him go and steps back, a shy smile on his face. He glances at Qui-gon out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, I’ll just go start breakfast then.”

Both Obi-wan and Qui-gon watch him as he retreats to the kitchen. Obi-wan wishes he had grabbed a shirt before leaving the bedroom.

“I do not support your ideas to leave the church, Obi-wan,” Qui-gon says breaking their stalemate. “It’s a good path for you. You often think of the future when you should be focused in the present, with your present position. I have tried to guide you in this.”

He takes a step forward. “I do not agree with this relationship you have with Mr. Skywalker. It is not of the Lord.”

Obi-wan clenches his teeth, his jaw aching. “I am well aware, Father.”

“Yes, and you take this path without my blessing anyways,” He says. But the corners of his lips lift and Obi-wan’s dread begins to fall away. “But I understand that you will do what you must, Obi-wan, despite my counsel.”

Obi-wan’s heart quivers and be blinks to clear his relief from his eyes.

Qui-gon places a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder. “I believe that you will be happy.”

They stand together for a few moments, accompanied by Anakin’s dramatic banging in the other room, before Obi-wan speaks again. His voice cracks and he stumbles over his words; his previous burst of courage settled to a light crest of confidence. “Would you like to stay for breakfast?”

Qui-gon steps back, his hand falling and his face schooled into his regular, blank expression. “I am needed this morning for a Deacon meeting. We are discussing plans for the Easter sermon series. Mace has made a real mess of it this year.”

Obi-wan clears his throat. “Well, then it sounds like they need you. Please let me know when you are back in town.”

Qui-gon nods. “Please tell Mr. Skywalker that I will be interested in learning about the results of his first successful test.” He gestures towards the hunk of metal on the coffee table.

“Oh, yes well. I will let him know.”

Qui-gon leaves with a simple goodbye. Obi-wan stands in the living room, staring at the door.

****************

Out behind Palpatine’s Victorian, perfectly maintained garage, Obi-wan watches silently from his seat on a workbench as Anakin tinkers in the motorcycles innards. He sits on the dirt floor on a large scrap of cardboard with various tools spread out around him in a burst of metal. The wooden doors of the garage are propped open to let in the fresh summer breeze.

“Yes, finished!” Anakin shouts, bursting to his feet and startling Obi-wan out of his mid-day daze. “It’s ready!” The back of his pants are covered in grime and his face is dusty with dirt and engine oil. “Help me take it off the lift?”

Obi-wan crouches down on the side of the red machine and toggles the switch Anakin had pointed out to him earlier. With a lurch, the jack lowers slowly to the ground. Anakin unclips the harness from around the front and rear tires while Obi-wan holds the bike steady.

“Are you sure you’ve fixed the leak?” The last time they’d turned the engine on, Obi-wan had been sure they started and oil fire. Anakin had laughed through a cloud of billowing smoke and cut the ignition.

“I’m positive, Obi-wan,” He leans over the motorcycle to kiss Obi-wan on the cheek. “I think.”

Anakin takes control of the handlebars and pushes the bike out of the garage and into the sandy drive. The side stand pops down with a snap as Obi-wan looks on from a safe distance.

“Ready?” Anakin asks with a grin. We waggles the key in the air.

“Of course,” Obi-wan says. He crosses his arms over his chest. His shoulders burn in the heat of the sun.

Anakin plugs the key into the ignition and switches the electronics on. Reaching across the bike, he flips a red switch up and presses the starter. The engine chugs one before blaring to life, a winding scream and then a steady pound of noise that rings in Obi-wan’s ears. Anakin grins over the green monstrosity. “It’s working,” he yells over the noise.

Obi-wan smiles back at him and steps up alongside him. The engine dulls his congratulations in Anakin’s ear. The taller man wraps an arm around Obi-wan’s shoulders and leans down to kiss him on the check. He switches off the engine and the yard brightens again with the natural sounds of the wind in the low grass and the cheer of birds in the nearby trees.

“You know, the next step is to take nude photos with you sitting on it,” Anakin says, grinning down at Obi-wan. He wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ve got to have something to get me through the lonely days when you’re at that stuffy library.”

Obi-wan shoves him away but doesn’t put much muscle into it. Anakin’s ribs feel solid and warm beneath his hands. “I will do no such thing, Anakin Skywalker.”

Anakin laughs. “But you’ll still ride on the back, right?”

Obi-wan nods against his better judgment.

“Well good. ‘Cause when the rpm’s swing up and the frame starts to vibrate, you’ll be hard against my ass, old man.” Anakin leans down again for a sloppy kiss, smearing spit across Obi-wan’s lips.

Obi-wan’s face heats but kisses Anakin again. “I can’t wait,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! I had fun writing this one. Please, as always, any comments or constructive criticism is welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so fun to write! Any feedback or comments are always appreciated!  
> Chapter 2 is almost done so it should be up soon!
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/selcier


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